Kisses and Caramels
by DivineMissP
Summary: Something is missing in their physical interaction. Phryne, being Phryne, is about to do something about it... (2 chapters total - smut included!)
1. Chapter 1

_This is a little something that I wrote on the plane when I didn't have access to my story '1 Year'. It was originally a snippet that just wouldn't fit into the flow of that story, and then it took on a life of its own. It's perfect as a standalone, but if you'd like it as an add-on to '1 Year', it fits in very soon after the events of Chapter 8. There are also a couple of teeny tiny references to Chapter 10 of that story (not yet posted - still a work in progress, sorry; being on holiday somehow seems to leave LESS time for writing)._

xoxox

Their physical relationship was very new, but even so, Phryne had already lost count of the number of times they HAD already 'been physical'. As a woman of vast experience (she smiled smugly to herself), who knew well her own pleasures, it had not taken her long to realise that there was something... missing from their lovemaking.

All men were different, with differing tastes when it came to the women they bedded. It was usually easy for her to pick up on their preference; the longing looks cast at her slender ankles and shapely calves, the sly sideways glances at her derrière as she turned slightly away, or the outright eyeballing of her small, pert breasts. Once they were actually in her bed (or...anywhere else for that matter), they would tend to hone in and concentrate on the area that appealed most to them.

Jack was different, and had been from the moment they first met. He had proved immune to her flirtation then, and she had been a little disappointed that the dour detective had not even flicked a glance down her expensively-clothed body. She had also been... interested.

It wasn't his marriage that prevented from responding to her charms; many a wedded man relished a little sly flirtation as a reinforcement of his ongoing virility. He WAS married; she had known it instinctively, but she had never been able to pinpoint exactly how. He didn't wear a ring, as had become fashionable for young men during the war, but perhaps he had been married before the world became caught up in that conflagration, or perhaps he was simply too conservative. There were no photographs on display in his office, or in his desk drawers for that matter (which she had raided many times in search of useful objects). He never seemed to have available to him the packed lunches typical of those who had dutiful wives waiting at home, and he rarely seemed to have anywhere to be, other than the station.

As they had come to know each other better he had come out of his shell a little, and he would sometimes play the game, but she saw that it was only in jest; the policeman had no interest in her seduction, imagined or otherwise. Somewhere along the line she had begun to care about this serious, gentle man, and her attentions became her gift to him; a sign that his friendship was important to her, that his return of her affection meant something to her in turn.

He had never spoken of his wife until the afternoon of the exoneration of Miss Leigh, and then only to confirm what she had long suspected; that his bond with her was not a happy one. In Phryne's experience, this usually gave a man every good reason to play up. But, Jack, as she herself had put it, was a man of honour. No matter how broken his marriage, he would always do the right thing. Until he had come to recognise that the right thing, for everyone involved, was to end it. It was only in hindsight that Phryne could see the true change in him that that realisation had wrought. At the time, she had vainly supposed that she was wearing him down, and she was, but not in the way that she thought.

When the flirtation had become more serious, it was, really, serious. It was not the sort that she was used to, the sultry looks and brazen comments that led to a quick tumble, never to look back. No. This was a slow-burning longing that tore at her defences, as he adored her with his beautiful eyes. She had never caught him actually ogling her. No matter how heated their moments became, his eyes remained pinned to her face, occasionally journeying only as far as her lips. In a moment of peril, his hands were always quick to come to her rescue, but just as quick to depart. He was respectful of her person in a way that she had never wished for, but now craved from him.

But it was not just his sense of honour that had kept him at arm's length. He seemed to think he was somehow unworthy of her attentions, ashamed of his own need for them. And that had aroused in her some primal urge to protect him, to mother him, to LOVE him, give him all of herself as she had never given it before. But she had been afraid, deeply afraid, of her own power over him, of herself, of her own ability to self-destruct and take him with her.

She would recover in time; he probably never. She couldn't bear to hurt this man, any more than she could tear herself away from him. So the tables had turned, and she had been the one to keep him at bay. Until they had turned again, and she was left bereft by his absence; she needed him as much as he needed her.

When she had finally taken the ONLY step she could have taken, and declared her love for him, she had somehow thought that, at first, the physical aspect of their relationship would not quite live up to the emotional bond they had built. But it hadn't worried her at all. He would need time; she understood that, and she had been prepared to wait as long as it took, firstly for him to come to her bed, and then for things to, well, come up to her standards. She really couldn't think of any other way to phrase it. To quell his doubts, she had told him of her fears in relation to their first time, and she had been truthful. But she had also thought that she was being just a bit silly, to be so afraid of allowing herself to be vulnerable with him.

In fact, she had been wholly unprepared for the effect that true LOVE would have on lovemaking. She smiled mockingly to herself. How naive she had been! She could not say that her experiences with him so far had been any less than incredible. Jack was no Casanova, no professional seducer who had studied and perfected his technique. But from their first kiss, he had relished every moment as if it might be his last with her, and being with him, loving him back as he loved her was both beautiful and heart-wrenching at the same time.

He worshipped her as some deity who had granted him her love, and might snatch it from him at any moment. Only yesterday he had said something disgustingly romantic, which had seen her looking at herself in a new way for the first time in memory. Now that he was free to take as he wished from her, she had thought that she might finally discover where his preferences lay, so she was both overjoyed, and slightly miffed, that his enjoyment of her encompassed her body in its entirety.

But still, there WAS something that wasn't quite right. Something that he WASN'T doing, which she desperately wanted of him. And no, it wasn't THAT; she knew he wasn't ready for that. She didn't particularly want to think of what he and his former wife had done together, but she simply COULDN'T imagine Rosie with Jack's head between her thighs. It just didn't seem... like something they would have done. She could be wrong, but if not, she would look forward to educating Jack at some future point in time… oh yes...

But for now, it was something slightly more... she couldn't think of a word. 'Mundane' and 'normal' both sprang to mind, but they were each far too harsh; a criticism of his attention to her. And she had nothing to criticize. But there was something that he was holding back from her, something other men seemed to relish...

She had given him her explicit permission to explore her body as he chose, but so far, the kisses that he pressed fervently to her heated skin had never ventured to her breasts. Between them, yes, across her smoothe belly, down the rounds of her hips, even to the tops of her creamy thighs. His reactions to her body during their initial coupling had been exactly what she might have expected of a man who had been through a sexual drought (in fact, she was more than a little proud of his control), but in the times that followed soon after she had thought that perhaps he just wasn't a breast man. She had even found herself briefly envious of those women possessed of a more voluptuous figure. But it wasn't like he was avoiding them, or concentrating his attentions elsewhere; he certainly enjoyed touching them...

She didn't know his reasons, but she was going to test him a little... and it would be fun! She hoped so anyway...

xoxox


	2. Chapter 2

xoxox

He was comfortably ensconced in the parlour, reading, and drinking absentmindedly, looking every bit the gentleman in the sleepwear she had bought him. She stopped a moment by the door to drink in the sight of him; he just _belonged_ here with her in a way that she couldn't articulate. He had been right to question her impetuous decision to invite him to stay, but she was more certain by the day that it was the right one.

As she padded across the room towards him, she made her presence known by rustling the bag in her hand as she walked. She felt wonderful, despite having bathed alone, although admittedly at her own behest. After all, she had wanted to prepare; her skin was as smoothe and silky as a baby's, and at her own admittance, she smelled absolutely enticing, which was essential. She was wearing her favourite robe; underneath a plain nightdress, but that was unimportant. She was still glowing with the warmth of her bath (and perhaps the thought of what was to come?), and her eyes were bright and dancing. She was entirely free from makeup, her peachy lips full and sensuous, a sprinkling of freckles visible across her face; just the way he liked it.

He glanced up as she...what?...across the room towards him. It wasn't the seductive saunter she often employed, but something less contrived; far softer, more fluid, and she looked positively radiant. Mr Butler and Dot were nowhere to be seen, and he found himself the recipient of her warm, heavenly-scented body, as she dropped gently into his lap. She gazed at him tenderly for a moment, brushing an untamed curl from his forehead, before leaning in to kiss him gently, and agonisingly slowly. Of course he knew her well enough to know that something was up; he wasn't sure exactly where this was going, but her actions and her scent told him that it would likely be somewhere very nice indeed.

He feigned nonchalance as he asked her what was in the bag; he knew that they were sweets; he recognised the paper from her favourite shop. She took a slow sip of his whiskey, before opening the top of the bag and holding it briefly under his nose, before pulling it back and re-folding the top.

"Chocolate caramels." He had it in one, there was no denying that smell. Jack wasn't really one for sweets, but the bouquet of smoothe, liquid caramel encased in chocolate was one that always had his mouth watering. He suddenly felt strangely as if he was betraying her, and pressed his nose and lips against the skin of her neck; yes, if he had to choose which scent to follow, it would certainly be hers.

She raked her hand lightly through his hair. "The caramels and I are heading upstairs for the night; perhaps you'd like to join us?"

He didn't move his head, but gazed up at her with that boyish look that made her melt "I'm sure I'd be delighted", so she took his hand in hers and led him up to THEIR (she was just beginning to get used to saying that) bedroom. There she instructed him to hang up his robe, refill his glass from the decanter on her dresser if he liked, and to just take a seat on the bed; she would only be a moment. She leaned over and patted the middle of the bed to indicate where he should sit, and placed the bag of caramels on the covers, slightly away from that position.

Jack did as was instructed and was sitting cross-legged on the covers, whiskey at his bedside, the caramels somewhere between. He reached out and took a swig, and on the way back to his body, his hand stopped over the bag.

"Don't touch the caramels!" Her voice startled him. He swore that the woman had eyes in the back of her head that could see around corners.

Phryne had gone into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar, and once there quickly shucked her robe from her shoulders, and removed her nightdress with one swift movement. She found a fairly plain pair of knickers on a stool where she had left them (she didn't want him to be distracted from her object) then re-assumed the robe as if it had never been disturbed. As always, she gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror, then re-entered the bedroom to find him looking slightly guilty, like a puppy who just couldn't help that it had chewed a favourite shoe. She climbed onto the bed and kneeled in front of him, leaning forward to kiss him as she adjusted her position. Good. He hadn't actually eaten one yet...

She put her hands out and tapped his knees "Can you sit like this? Like I am? I think it will be better... and more comfortable." The mattress was soft enough that it was no great problem to sit with his feet tucked beneath him like hers. She reached out and gently forced his knees apart... just enough for her to shimmy one of hers forward and into the gap; they were now kneeling facing each other, each with one knee and thigh between the other's two. "Perfect." Now he was burning with curiosity.

She reached out behind her and found the whiskey, offering it to him before taking a sip, and placing it back on the bedside. She picked up the bag of caramels, opened the top, and placed it down beside her leg. "We're going to play a game..."

"A game?" He looked a little skeptical, and perhaps a little scared(?), so she reassured him by letting him know that he wasn't the only one feeling just a touch apprehensive, "Yes, a game... I HOPE that you're going to enjoy this..." She smiled at him gently, "It's easy, all you have to do is kiss me, however you like... but it must be... here..." and she pointed to her mouth.

He shrugged; she was right, that was easy, so he did. With a thumb brushing gently on her neck, he kissed her slowly and sweetly, his tongue barely touching her upper lip, pressed between his.

He watched her as she removed a caramel from the bag, and bit it deftly in two, her tongue flicking out to remove what was left on her lower lip. "Close your eyes..." The remaining half she pressed into his mouth as he opened it to the touch of her fingers on his lips. She was right; he was definitely enjoying this game.

Eyes opened once more, she instructed "Kiss me... here..." and tilted her head backwards, exposing her creamy throat to his lips. "Close your eyes..."

"Kiss me... here..." and he pressed a chaste kiss to the apple of her cheek. "Close your eyes..." Could she help it if he then held her fingers in his mouth just long enough to eliminate the stickiness he felt there? It was a little too early in the game for her to be feeling quite this warm…

"Here..." she pulled aside her robe just far enough for his tongue to flick out to a point halfway along her collarbone. That was when he noticed that she no longer appeared to be wearing her nightdress, but he no longer needed to be told to close his eyes.

"Here..." a whisper of a kiss on one of her freckled shoulders as his arms wound around her small waist. So far he couldn't complain about where this was going…

She undid the tie of her robe so that she could push the two sides away from the centre of her body, but leaving them covering her breasts. "Here..." she pointed directly between them, and he bent his head gently to the spot she marked.

"Here..." and she flicked the robe off her left hip, the edge still just catching on her nipple, but baring the softness of the left side of her stomach to his mouth. She had to lean back, braced on her arms, and he leaned across her body to comply.

"Here... but I don't think that you need another caramel for that..." This time when he kissed her mouth it was fierce and left her breathless.

"Here..." she leaned back again and let the right side of the robe slide completely off her shoulders, exposing her breast, and pointed to her ribs below. He complied, then closed his eyes, and his mouth closed around her sticky fingers once more. When he opened them her robe had slipped down around her waist, and she apparently had every intention of leaving it there, so he reached out and pulled it from her, leaving her in unadorned pale knickers. Not that he was complaining...

Phryne's heart was hammering now, not just with the lust he inspired in her, but also the tiniest, tiniest touch of fear. What if he reacted badly when she pushed him? She inhaled, but not too deeply; she didn't want to spook him. "Here...", her fingers resting gently at the top of her left breast, towards her shoulder. His lips would have to press against the softness about an inch and a half from her nipple. She tried not to watch him too closely as she saw him consider the development.

His eyebrows rose internally. It wasn't that he DIDN'T want to, just that he had programmed himself not to. Rosie did not like that at all; she had been happy enough for him to touch her there, but whenever his mouth strayed too close she was quick to nudge him away, even in the early days of their marriage. He had thought that she was probably just shy, and he couldn't blame her for that. He had tried to explain that it was completely natural, there was nothing to be ashamed of, that men just liked that. Wrong tack. She wondered what made him think that, did men actually talk about those sort of things amongst themselves? God, he didn't discuss her with his friends, did he? Of course not... But, she was adamant; breasts were for babies, not grown men, and the quickest way to cool her ardour was to get too close, so he soon learned not to.

Now, he was being offered exactly what he wanted, but he was a little unsure. But then his brain countered that Phryne obviously wanted that too, or she would not have asked; she was watching him, but with a gentle, expectant smile. He leaned forward, her skin giving gently beneath his lips. He heard her intake of breath, and pulled back to see her grin widen, her lips now gently parted. She put a half caramel to his mouth as he closed his eyes as bidden, but he didn't even register the process of chewing and swallowing it; he was too focused on what would happen next.

Phryne was also focused on that; his face was serious but the look in his eyes told her that he had definitely enjoyed it. So, what was her next move going to be? Ah hah. "Here..."

His eyes looked down at her fingers, up at her face, then back down at her fingers where they rested at the top side of the crease below her right breast. This time she didn't lean back; instead pushing up on her heels so that she was just high enough for him to comply without too much contortion, but just low enough that he would still have to duck his head underneath the 'overhang'. His arms went around her waist as he did so, and she gave a soft gasp as his nose gently nudged her upwards, and his partly open mouth closed over the doughy flesh of the underside of her breast. This was exactly what she wanted; well, one very pleasing part of exactly what she wanted.

For his part, Jack was reveling in the sensation of the yielding softness under his lips, the taste of her when his tongue pressed against it. And from the sound of her, and the change in her breathing, Phryne was very much enjoying what had previously been denied to him. He breathed a hot breath against her skin before lifting his head and meeting her lust-filled gaze. "Close your eyes, Jack..." What? Oh... he had forgotten about the caramels. He did as he was told, and opened his mouth to receive his reward. Phryne had not forgotten the caramels, but, quite frankly, she no longer gave a damn.

She pressed two fingers against his lower lip to open his jaw a little wider, but what she then put in his mouth was not a caramel. Jack's eyes were startled open as his tongue and lips encountered a pert nipple, and her creamy flesh pillowed around his mouth and nose. Even if he had wanted to move away (which he absolutely did not), Phryne's left arm was now twined around his neck, the fingers digging gently into the base of his skull, those of her right grasping his left arm. She had gasped before; now as he tentatively closed his mouth more firmly, the sound that left her was more of a plaintive cry.

He experimentally released her just long enough to open his mouth wider to accommodate as much of her as possible. An absurd thought flickered through his mind – oh! to be a snake, with such flexible jaws. He didn't need to look at Phryne to know that she was receiving as much pleasure as he was from his ministrations; she hummed her approval at him, and her head tilted back far enough for her hair to swing against his fingers, where they clung to her back. She writhed in his arms as his tongue circled around her nipple, and he suddenly realised that there were TWO of these delights available to his willing mouth.

Her right breast plopped from its place between his lips, and as he looked at her he felt an urgent need to be inside her. The heat and moisture against his thigh told him, that as far as Phryne was concerned, that was not going to be a problem, so he moved at once to relieve her of her underwear.

Oh! his clever mouth was doing such things to her; all she knew was that she needed to see his head bent to her right breast, and she needed him inside her… desperately! She didn't remember unbuttoning his pyjamas, but she helped him tear the shirt from his arm and fling it in the direction of the fireplace, and suddenly they were both up on their knees, her knickers were gone, and he was pressed, hard, between their bellies. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him deeply as he somehow managed to untangle his legs from the trousers. At that, he fell back to his heels, and she went with him, her thighs tightening around his waist as she sank down upon him. God! How was it that she was so close already?

Jack groaned as they began to move together, and his mouth caught at the prize presented to him. How was he going to control himself? Her taste, her feel, her scent… all working to drive him rapidly over the edge. Not only that, but her head was now bent over his, her fingers digging into his skull and his shoulder, and she was panting hard into his sweat-dampened hair, as she arched her chest against him. Her nipple was as hard as a pebble beneath his tongue as he suckled at it, and he suddenly needed more.

He bit gently, and was astonished when Phryne cried out loud and convulsed around and against him. That was it. His remaining control snapped and he cried out in turn, her breast still in his open mouth as he released deep within her.

As the tremors subsided, Phryne considered that her efforts had been well worth it… and that this was a game that they would definitely be playing again.

Jack had only one thought: Babies be damned... these were all his.

xoxox


End file.
